Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Austin
The god of thunder was fighting with superman in the snow, and I was on the sidelines, which there clearly were even though they weren’t battling on a football field.
I stood there, a helpless spectator, though somewhere in the recess of my mind, I wondered if I was supposed to be the coach.
It was no contest; Superman won the battle, hands down.
He was walking toward me when a blast of visible wind smacked him in the back, shoving him closer to me.
Reality began to blur the corners of the image of his calm, perfectly quaffed head as if neither the fight, nor the wind, had rattled him.
I may have said “no” out loud, and Superman may have taken me literally, turning away as the pounding of the wind infiltrated my brain, insisting I wake up.
I did so by sitting up and adjusting to my surroundings. I was on Randall’s couch, in the big, open, drafty main room of his amazing cabin. The TV was off, and the fire had been doused. The storm remained a constant howl outside the large, windowed room.
My mind battled to remember both the dream I’d been having and how it came to be that I was curled up in the world’s softest blanket on the man’s couch. I came up with nothing, so I grabbed my phone to check the time.
It was four a.m. If I’d dozed off during the movie, which I must have, I’d been sleeping for hours, so I didn’t really think trying to fall back asleep was an option.
I sighed as I untangled myself from the blanket and stood.
When I was standing, and the rustling from my movements subsided, I could hear rustling above my head.
Both lofts were made with the same blond wood that formed the walls and floor of every surface in the cabin that wasn’t either the sleek kitchen, made of glass, or covered in stone.
The railings were made of slatted wood, and the lofts were open to the rest of the home.
Wide open and inviting, like everything else in this place.
Except for the bathroom. At least that had a door.
I worked my way to that room before quietly approaching the fire to start it back up.
I did so slowly, but the noise still caused another rustle above my head.
Not wanting to wake my host, I tiptoed back to the couch and wrapped myself in the blanket, going so far as to drape it over my head so that it would shield the light emanating from my phone.
I found my way back to David Bee’s social media page and took in the man who managed to flash not only a hot younger guy but some expensive swag in every single recent pompous picture.
Scrolling back in time to the pictures of Randall, it was no different.
The posts were all curated to show two well-dressed men in well-appointed locations or in front of an expensive-looking car or restaurant.
Randall looked out of place in most, if not all, of the pictures I studied until I got to one labeled “Work obligation with my better half.” It was a holiday party based on the decorations, and for once, David was the one to look out of place, standing next to his partner and a few other guys, one of whom was literally wearing a pocket protector and all of whom wore glasses.
Based on how luxurious Randall’s solitary cabin in the woods was, it was clear that he’d been successful, but I had a feeling that Randall was really a tech nerd at heart.
Another sigh escaped me, and I regretted it immediately, quieting and listening for the man again.
I thought about the next few days and what we were going to do to fill them.
Granted, there were a million superhero movies to choose from, and we’d bought enough food and beer to feed a small army.
Classes were over, so it wasn’t even like I needed to study, with all the down time that lay before me.
For Christ’s sake, I’d even finished my laundry and queued up another stack of firewood outside the door.
Randall rustled above me again, and I pictured the man I had only seen as poised and put together, imagining him all sleep tossed, hair a mess, creases lining his alabaster cheek where he rested peacefully on his pillow.
Oh, no! An image of creases to both a blushing cheek on his face and on what appeared to be a very firm ass, based on those gray pants he’d had on when we met, popped into my mind.
As if on cue, he rolled over again, and I imagined it was him rolling toward me, a sleepy smile on his face that would quickly turn to something else when he saw the fire in my eyes.
These next few days could go by in a flash if the nerdy superhero above my head was into finding sexy ways to fill them.
I leaned my head back as my dick started to firm up just a little at the prospect, but then a ghost of something flashed into my brain.
I hoped it was Thor coming back to fight the man of steel, and I closed my eyes and relaxed to see if I could drag the memory of my dream from the recesses of my mind.
Instead, something else shoved itself into my consciousness.
It was an image of me, or rather the sensation of me, snuggled against Randall’s shoulder as he spoke softly from above my head.
My dick was really hopeful that Randall was whispering sweet nothings, and my hand may have found its way underneath my borrowed sweatpants to graze my happy trail on its way further down my body.
Then the whisper formulated and congealed, and I snapped my hand away: “And your dad, well, I couldn’t really tell him, could I?”
Why the fuck had this man thought he needed to hide from my father?
The thought was ludicrous to me. I loved my dad.
He wasn’t anyone’s idea of an alpha male, in his dad jeans, with his dad jokes.
He had beer belly he sported almost proudly and was constantly excited about something, whether it was football, or the new appetizer he was testing at his beachfront restaurant, or my son the future doctor.
Dad had been dedicated to my mom for years, and she absolutely adored him.
They’d been together forever, had known each other almost as long as he’d known Randall.
Neither of them had blinked for a second when I’d come out.
So why would Randall not have told them?
Almost as long. Dad had known Mom almost as long as he’d known Randall.
Randall, the introverted computer nerd who’d been friends with my outgoing dad. My dorky, straight-as-an-arrow, totally taken dad. Taken by the woman Randall had introduced him to. Could it be that Randall had hoped for something more with my dad?
I thought back to those pictures collecting dust at my parent’s house. Randall off to the side in the group shot, a polite, possibly tense smile on his face, only beaming when it was just him and Dad.
I looked up in the darkness toward the bedroom loft and did a little whispering of my own.
“If you came back to woo my dad, you're barking up the wrong tree, dude.” But he hadn’t come back here for that, had he?
My parents wouldn’t even have known he’d returned to the States if my mother hadn’t used her position at the bank to literally hunt him down.
The man upstairs was utterly alone, with no family, an asshole ex, and, had it not been for Mom, no one on this side of the Atlantic to spend the holidays with. There must have been some other reason he didn’t tell my dad he was gay.
He’d told me right off, though, as if it were nothing, which, of course, it was. But still, the fact that he’d felt comfortable enough around me to be so open seemed important. Like we’d connected, like we were on the same page.
Maybe it was wrong to think my dad’s best friend and I could find some interesting ways to fill the time, or maybe it was exactly what the reserved man in the lonely cabin needed.
I had no idea how I was going to convince him of that, or if it was a good idea, but then the sensation of being curled up next to him flooded me again, warmth firing through me in the drafty room, and it didn’t really matter how good, or bad, of an idea it was.
I started to drowse, freed my head from underneath the blanket, and put my phone down.
I couldn’t help but lie flat on my back, my head propped on a pillow Randall could only have left for me the night before, along with the blanket.
From this angle, I was looking up at the loft, nestled above the bathroom, listening intently for sounds of my host, imagining I could hear him breathing.
I pictured the two of us side by side on his bed, heads propped up, looking into each other's eyes.
What the fuck? my brain argued with itself.
I had just said I wanted to have a little naughty fun, not stare longingly into his eyes.
A gust of wind had me moving my gaze to the slider on the other side of the room.
It had been getting dark when we arrived, but I’d been able to take in some of the layout of the patio outside on my way to collect firewood.
At the far end was a slightly elevated deck, with cushioned outdoor furniture and what appeared to be a hot tub, covered and piled high with snow, the pergola overhead causing patterns in the piles that fell to the ground.
If the long and winding road we'd taken to get to the cabin was any indication, we appeared to be fairly isolated. And from what I could tell, the area behind the patio and deck had been tree-lined. How close was Randall’s nearest neighbor? How isolated were we?
Were we far enough away from others that we could find our way out to that outdoor couch?
Could we strip each other naked, standing right there, the trees our witness, a gentle breeze our companion, and not the wintery bluster that kept me awake that night?
There was no room for icy wind, or falling snow, or dangerous temperatures in my fantasy.
Only a perfectly temperate day and heated bodies.
In my mind, he’d just toss his shirt to the ground and kick himself out of his pants while I mirror those very actions.
He’d reach up next to remove his glasses, and my hand would come up quickly to surround his wrist before he pulled them off.
I’d tug him to me and growl, “Leave them on.” With a playful and seductive smirk, my fantasy Randall would slowly slide the glasses back on, the look on his face nothing like the innocent smile I’d already come to know.
Thinking about his need to put the remote control away earlier pulled me out of the fantasy as I thought, If the man wants his glasses off when he fucks, I should let him take the damn glasses off.
I thought I was done with my slutty little dream, but my cock hadn’t gotten the message.
While I was picturing a couple of exhibitionists on a fancy porch, blood had redirected, and my dick pulsed.
I put a hand on it to tamp it down, but that only had me hitching and quietly thrusting up.
I snapped my hand away and craned my head back again to look at Randall’s loft.
My rustling hadn’t disturbed him, but it was like I felt his presence in my every thought and in my every move.
It did nothing to help the situation in my sweatpants.
In Randall’s sweatpants, I thought, and for some reason that made it ten times sexier.
I rolled off the couch and tiptoed to the bathroom, the word fuck ringing in my brain like one extended note until I was tucked safely behind the door. I was right below him, so not really tucked away safely and maybe not really all that privately.
It didn’t fucking matter. I just needed to be really quiet, I decided, as the image of Randall smirking in those glasses came back to me full force.
I yanked the sweatpants down desperately before willing myself to go slowly and quietly.
I looked around and decided to slide down the cabinet and sit right there on the cold tile floor.
Knees hitched, I took myself in hand and thought about bending over that outdoor couch, where anyone could see us, and where Randall could use my body to make himself crazy.
He’d make us both crazy, I was sure, and if he was into it, maybe we’d switch positions.
Sitting as I was, I imagined him perched above me, his weight on the balls of his feet while one hand adjusted those glasses and the other sought out my dick, lining it up and settling himself down on it perfectly.
He’d place his hands on my shoulders then, and starting out slowly, he’d bounce up and down until we were both writhing in chaotic passion.
I watched the scene play out as if my eyelids were a movie screen, but my eyes flew open as I started to come.
I imagined him doing the same, hands-free, his fingertips boring into my shoulders, eyes locked with mine.
A little grunt escaped me, though I tried to contain it, and it turned into a soft shhh as I chastised myself, cum dripping off my fingers where I held myself in hand.
It was going to be a long couple of days.